Creation: Part A

Pretending to blend in at the Herridge's ranch over Thanksgiving 2008.

Sharing a moment and a snack at the wildlife ranch in September 2008

Loving on Rascal in the summer of 2008.

When I was young, we lived in Canada. It was by all practical purposes the idyllic childhood. Neighbors knew neighbors, enough to swap presents during the holidays so kids couldn't go nosing through the house and ruin the Christmas morning surprise, enough to bless each other's meals with fresh picks from the garden, enough to hose down the entire backyard in winter so all of the kids on the street could have their very own skating rink, enough to genuinely watch out for one another and one another's children.

My love of the outdoors was born in that world I grew up in. I think back to those days and all sorts of images flash through my mind's eye: raking leaves and then playing for hours in the endless, brilliant piles of red and orange and yellow maple leaves, daring to go down to the ravine after school and walk across the fallen log in the rushing creek thus transporting ourselves to the land of terabithia, climbing up to nest in the weeping willow in the park to daydream with one of my best friends, cross-country skiing treks with my family deep in the silent white woods, swimming in the quarry in our town - larger than a young imagination could hold, an unknown depth, cold and dark.

As I have read about Celtic spirituality and their views on creation, I've thought back to my childhood and the many amazing encounters I've had since then in this world that God made. All the places I have traveled, the many different landscapes I've been witness to. And I have thought about Grant, even at his young age, being so in love and curious about every animal he meets and feeling so at home when outside.

I sat down tonight with the intention of summarizing the main tenets of Celtic beliefs about creation. But for some reason, I grew mindful instead. It's all coming together. All of the words I keep reading. "It is not as if creation somehow exists independently from God, the impression we have received too often from a mechanistic world view, and that God only periodically chooses to express himself through it. That would be to say that God is like an artist who has made a violin he only occasionally plays. The rising of the sun each morning is the expression of God, as is the beauty of the moon at night." I can see why the Celts have such a high regard for creation - because it endlessly shouts and whispers and wildly points towards a God who is brilliant, imaginative, attentive, thoughtful, nurturing, fierce, uncontainable, and the list never ends. In all my experiences, and in the stories I read in the Bible, nature always bears testimony to the truth of God.

So, consider this post as a warm-up. I needed it before I could progress. I'll get around to my original intention soon, but in the meantime, I'll end with an evening prayer. Celts believe there is always something to learn from the world around us. See if you can pick up on that belief as expressed in this prayer:

Glory be to you, O God of the night,
for the whiteness of the moon
and the infinite stretches of dark space.
Let me be learning to love the night
as I know and love the day.
Let me be learning to trust its darkness
and to seek its subtle blessings.
Let me be learning the night's way of seeing
that in all things I may trace the mystery of your presence.

Exploring Celtic Spirituality: Part One

It started when Brad got a copy of Celtic Benediction by J. Philip Newell back in January. It's a book of Celtic prayers and provides an outline for morning and evening prayers for one whole week. We liked it so much that we wanted to learn more about the Celts. So, enter a few of Newell's other books, Christ of the Celts, The Book of Creation, Sounds of the Eternal, and Listening for the Heartbeat of God. Now, 7 months later, I have finished all of them (finally!).

I have wanted to write about Celtic spirituality for some time, but even now, 5 books later, I still seem to have a thousand unresolved thoughts swimming around in my head and I'm not sure I want to commit any of them to writing. And yet, writing is the very process that often helps me navigate through such conflicts. What a conundrum...

At the same time I have been living in the land of Celtic spirituality, Brad has been reading several books exploring the future of Christendom and what the new wave of Christianity looks like. Did you know that now over 60% of the world's Christians live in the southern hemisphere - mainly South America, Africa, and Asia? Their expression of faith looks very different that what we claim in the West.


All of the discussions of late in our house have thus collided, reminding me that many of my beliefs, whether I want to/like to admit it or not, are a consequence of the time and place I was born (and by that, I do not mean West Texas in the late 1970's, but rather in the West, in the 20th century). I can't deny that the gospel as I know it, has the stamp of figures such as Augustine, Plato and others.


It is virtually impossible to fully explain Celtic beliefs because they prize mystery, diversity, and freedom. However, I will attempt in the next few posts to outline some of the things that clearly differentiate them.

Western Christianity, thanks mostly in part to Augustine, has advocated the doctrine of original sin which teaches that "what is deepest in us is opposed to God rather than of God." The Celts believe that since we were created in the image of God, goodness is at the core of our being. They do not minimize the catastrophic influence of sin to cripple and wound us, but they do believe that the image of God is at the core of every human. For them, "the shadow of sin comes very close to the beginning of our lives, but deeper still is the Light from which we come." Thus, "The redemption that Christ brings is such a liberation, a freeing of the good that is in us."


As the New Reformed movement is on the horizon in America's evangelical churches and as New Calvinism is gaining popularity, thoughts like the ones expressed above could be viewed as perhaps a tad dangerous. And yet, honestly, they resonate with something in me. As I read the story of God presented in scripture and as I move through this life, I can connect with the idea that God's image is in everything he has created. Is the doctrine of original sin authentic to the story of scripture or a cultural creation? Now as a parent, this subject takes on a different dimension. In innumerable ways, Grant has awakened in me new faith, has pointed me back to God, has reminded me of home. There are certainly many reasons for this, and yet one reason must be that he bears the image of God.



For the Celts, viewing life this way drastically impacts all relationships. Newell recounts a story in which he was exploring these themes and at the end of the discussion, a Mohawk elder stood with tears in his eyes and said, "As I have been listening to these themes, I have been wondering where I would be today. I have been wondering where my people would be today. And I have been wondering where we would be as a Western world today if the mission that came to us from Europe centuries ago had come expecting to find Light within us."


This story has since colored my experiences and interactions. If you spend any time in Celtic prayers, you will see a common request - a desire to move through life with an appreciation for each individual as uniquely made in God's image. How does this influence the way we view 'missions'? How does this influence the boxes and boundaries we draw for people and even more, those who are considered 'enemies'?


I'll leave you with an evening prayer from Celtic Benediction so you can have a taste of what this belief looks like when expressed and I'll try to tackle thoughts on creation in the next post....

Renew me this night in the image of your love

renew me in the likeness of your mercy, O God.

May any refusal to forgive

that lingers with me from the day

any bitterness of soul

that hardens my heart

be softened by your graces of the night.

Renew me in the image of your love, O God,

renew me in the likeness of your mercy.

Busy Hands

Jessica and I have been really busy over the past couple of weeks. You can visit our Paper Wings blog to see a sample of what we've been up to. And, if you are in Waco on July 31-Aug 1, be sure to stop by Bloom and Bee Swanky's open house, the theme being "Made in the 254" featuring local artists.

Oh Youth Games...

Sometimes I love hanging out with the youth because you get to be a teenager again. We had some good, old fashioned, stereotypical youth games the other night. Here are just a few pictures.

We had a game wherein you stand a few feet apart from your partner and try to throw cheetos at their shaving cream covered face. Grant really thought this was fun.

Of course, there was a food relay. I had to eat a bowl full of white hominy. Luckily Mee Maw used to serve hominy all the time, so it wasn't that bad...at least I didn't have the pigs feet or canned oysters.

The best game of all. We were each standing on a bucket on a tarp that was covered in food and got to try to knock each other off. I highly recommend this game if you have any pent up anger you need to get out. We had to stop before I was able to knock Brad off because some food flew into Grant's face and he started crying...poor guy - he probably thinks his parents are the weirdest people.

Defintely read 'The Road'

I can't really remember, but I was probably about 18 when I first picked up Cormac McCarthy's All the Pretty Horses. I couldn't get into it and quickly abandoned my efforts. Brad bought his recent book, The Road, and something about it intrigued me. I am so glad I branched out of my comfort zone to finally read one of his books. I truly believe that future generations will read McCarthy's work as part of high school literature classes just as they now read Faulkner and Hemingway.

The Road is unlike any book I have ever read. Here is the summary from the back of the book: A father and his son walk alone through burned America. Nothing moves in the ravaged landscape save the ash on the wind. It is cold enough to crack stones, and when the snow falls it is gray. The sky is dark. Their destination is the coast, although they don't know what, if anything, awaits them there. They have nothing; just a pistol to defend themselves against the lawless bands that stalk the road, the clothes they are wearing, a cart of scavenged food-—and each other.

I can't summarize it better than the publisher: The Road is haunting in its desperation. It is an unflinching meditation on the worst and the best that we are capable of: ultimate destructiveness, desperate tenacity, and the tenderness that keeps two people alive in the face of total devastation.

Not since The Kite Runner have I read a book that got so inside of me. I finished it weeks ago and I still think of it from time to time, for it explores themes that speak to some of the most basic fears and questions about life. There are no chapter breaks, I think because the father and son never have the luxury of resting in their desperate struggle for survival. The ending was not what I expected, or even wanted, but the more I've thought on it, I think it its further proof of McCarthy's brilliance as a writer, because how you decide to end the book ultimately reveals how you personally answer most of the questions about life that the book poses.

While the story was overwhelmingly painful to read at times, I kept going in part because McCarthy mesmerizes you with his writing. Here is just a sample that gives you a taste of his skillful writing: "He walked out in the gray light and stood and he saw for a brief moment the absolute truth of the world. The cold relentless circling of the intestate earth. Darkness implacable. The blind dogs of the sun in their running. The crushing black vacuum of the universe. And somewhere two hunted animals trembling like ground-foxes in their cover. Borrowed time and borrowed world and borrowed eyes with which to sorrow it."

Even if this genre is way outside of your normal reading sphere, I encourage you to pick up a copy and see what you think. In October The Road is being released as a major motion picture. I can't even begin to think how they are going to translate this story to the big screen, but I already know that there simply won't be a way to compare the novel with the movie. Once you read it, let me know what you think!

Simple

We just returned from a trip home and I was reminded of the unhurried days of my own growing up. It was such a needed and refreshing time away.

Cousin Camp 2009

My sister's kids weren't going to be in preschool over the summer, so in trying to come up with ways to spend the days, she came up with the idea of having a cousin camp. The thought being that we could give the kids a chance to play together at the ranch for a few days and center everything around them. I must say it was a whirlwind. 4 kids under the age of 6 and the 2 of us! We packed a lot in to a few days - special arts and crafts, a trip to the children's museum, the waterpark, the lake, and 'cow rides' at the ranch. Each night after they were all bathed and tucked in, I felt like we had crossed the finish line of a very long race. It was an exhausting time, but completely worth it. Worth it to see Grant laughing with his cousins, worth it to sit on the couch for a few hours each night and get to talk, just me and my sister, worth it to think about how this could very well become a tradition that stays with our children for a lifetime. Kudos to Amy for a brilliant idea!

Grant learned lots of funny things from Jake and Sophia this week and was constantly laughing at them.

Bedtime stories in the tent we set up in the living room. Maybe next summer it will be cool enough to have one outside!

Grant's first real attempt with scissors, with the help of his great aunt, DD, who helped us immensely during cousin camp - the kids adore her and it was neat to see them make special memories with her.

What would camp be without a country cone at the water park?

My favorite picture of all. I wonder who will be the next addition to cousin camp...?

More than Enough

In the quiet of the night
may I know your presence, O God.
At the ending of the day
may my soul be alive to your nearness.
Amidst the tiredness that overcomes my body
and the tensions that linger in my mind,
amidst the uncertainties and fears
that haunt me in the darkness of the night,
let me know your presence, O God,
let my soul be alive to your nearness.

It has been one of those days. For some reasons, Sunday mornings always seem especially difficult - me trying to get Grant fed and all spiffied up for church and myself as well. I could tell that my patience was running low as soon as I even woke up. Grant spilled his juice all over the floor after monkeying around and I reacted too strongly. Get to church and have a difficult conversation that stirs uncertainty in my mind about what to do. Have a luncheon after church wherein Grant throws a table decoration and hits the woman sitting across the table from me in the face. Then he runs off with his fork and digs into the bowl of pink marshmallow fluff in the buffet line. One of those days. Go home and thankfully he sleeps for 3 hours! Except when he wakes up in his crib he decides to pull off his shorts, take off his dirty diaper, and you can fill in the rest...Go to church again and have even more difficult conversations, finally come home - tired, feeling threatened, confused about why things can't be easier, put Grant to bed, light a candle, and guess what the evening prayer is? The words above. So perfectly expressed. Even in days like today, God is near, God is present. And I pray my soul is alive to that truth. That in the midst of toddler tantrums, in the often unpleasant intimacies of physically caring for another human being, in conflict with others, God is near, God is present. God is.

I Pledge Allegiance

Our 4th of July Celebration was relatively low-key this year. We spent the day out at the ranch and after dinner, we decided it was time for a little celebrating. So, we made up a 4th of July parade. We handed out flags to all of the kids, cut up paper to make confetti, tied a bow around the dog, opened up the door to the Yukon and turned up the radio, said the pledge of allegiance and had ourselves a nice little parade down the driveway. The whole thing was utterly ridiculous and yet I haven't laughed that hard in a long time! The kids of course, knew no better and absolutely ate it up. Looks like we might have just made a new tradition.